


25 Days Has September - Beginning

by Davechicken



Series: 25 Days Has September [6]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>25 prompts for 25 days of September until Season 2</p>
            </blockquote>





	25 Days Has September - Beginning

"Mom... Mom! I'm fine! Will you quit fussing? MOM!" 

Julia Neville brushes more imaginary fluff from Jason's shoulders, and adjusts the collar of his freshly-pressed uniform again. Jason scowls under her fingers, but doesn't move to stop them.

"I know you're fine, sweetie, but I want you to be _perfect_."

"Well, he is perfect, honey. Can't you see? Our little boy... he's becoming a man." Behind her, Tom puts his hand on his mom's shoulder and pulls her back. "And he's going to have to learn to keep that uniform as spick and span as his father does, or he'll never hear the end of it. Will you, boy?"

Jason flushes. "No, Sir. No. I won't."

"Now, do you have everything you need?"

His hands tap over the pockets. Pen. Paper. Knife in holster. No gun yet, because he's not sworn in. That will come later today. They will press the hot metal on his wrist. M for Monroe. For Militia. For Manhood. And then they will give him his sidearm, and his sacred duties to uphold the law and defend the people of the Republic. His Republic.

"Yes, Sir."

His mother turns and buries her face in his father's shoulder, and Jason can tell it's because she's feeling proud of him. They both are. He doesn't remember the last time his father looked so happy with him. Maybe not ever, since the lights went out. Not ever.

"Good. We'll give you a few minutes to compose yourself, then you come with me and I will take you to be sworn in. You're going to make a fine officer, young man. I just know it." His dad winks at him, then ushers his mother out of the room.

Jason wonders why he did that. Why he left. He's ready. He's sure he is. He's sure it's time. Too long has he been waiting. Too long has he been under the protection of his elders. He remembers that first night - so many years ago - when he was literally starving to death and convinced he was going to die in the woods. Remembers crying silently so his dad wouldn't notice. Trying to be brave. Remembers the men on the tall horses. The men with the guns and the food. Caring and strong. He remembers knowing he wanted to grow up just like them.

He pulls the cuff back from his wrist and rubs his thumb idly over the bare skin. It won't be long now. It will hurt, of course, but what's a little pain compared to all the good the Militia does? It's his turn to give back. He presses his lips together and stares out the window. A few other young men - and the occasional woman - are already on their way. His stomach jumps, but he's sure it's just excitement.

It's time. It's time to grow up.

Head held high, he walks from the living room into the hall. A nod to his father and one last, brilliant smile to his mother.

"I'm ready, Sir. I'm ready."


End file.
